Sun and Sand

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the
characters in it.
Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of
consent in the
country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be
taken as approval of,
or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons
are either
illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does
not include safe sex
practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each
other to engage
only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons
is purely
coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to
the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If
you copy the
story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://www.iomfats.org
present, and
also the email address of its_onlyme@hotmail.com. I'd
love to
receive feedback.

----oooOOOooo----

Each year we go on holiday to the same seaside hotel in South Wales, in
a popular
walled town in Pembrokeshire. Tenby. It's famous for its sandy
beaches, safe
swimming, caves in the cliffs. I think they are limestone cliffs,
because the rocks get all
slippery when they are wet, but I'm really not that sure. We stay in a
small, family run
hotel overlooking the sea, at the top of the cliffs, and stay there for
two whole, blissful
weeks. We've been going to the same place since I was eight, and this
is the seventh
year we've stayed here. We know the owners pretty well, and they treat
their regulars
well, so we've got one of the best rooms, but not the most expensive
price. We're there
now. It's August, and we are at the end of our stay there.

I guess you've worked out that I'm fifteen. I hate my name. My mum
insists
on using it in full. Jeremy. Reminds me of the Milky Bar Kid. Weedy
with washed out
blond hair, spindly legs and arms, knobbly knees, and stupid National
Health glasses,
and incapable of eating real chocolate. Fancy lumbering me with
`Jeremy'! Now just
before all you guys called by the same name start getting upset,
you can like the
name all right. You can be proud of it. I'm the one who
hates it, and I hate
it because of the way my mum uses it. I'd probably be OK if she thought
of me as a
tough kid, but she thinks of me as `her little Jeremy', which is so, so
well I don't know
what it is.

So I call myself `Jerry', which works. Jerry Halcross. A bit of a
loner, no brothers, no
sisters, just a pet cat to talk to, and we don't take her on holiday. I
play tennis, swim,
learnt to paddle a canoe last year, and try really hard to be Jerry, not
Jeremy, well not
the Jeremy my mother sees, anyway.

Oh, yes. I think I'm gay.

I've never said that to anyone before. I've thought it quite often,
but I've never
actually said it. I'm not sure whether it makes me feel any
better about myself,
telling you, but I wanted to do it. So I have and I know I can trust
you. When I'm sure,
then I may tell everyone else, but for now it's just you, and I'd
like to keep it that
way. Well, apart from Ray, that is.

Yes, apart from Ray.

If you've got the time, I'll tell you about Ray. Well the bits that
are important,
anyway. If you're my real, true friend, you need to understand me. To
understand me,
you need to know how I feel about Ray.

He was here last year, in the same hotel, and he was here this year,
too. Last year
was great. He's about my age, born a couple of months before, but same
build, same
height,, soft brown hair, and deep brown eyes. You know when you look
at a dog's
eyes? That colour. So deep you could drown in them. He has a lovely
face, the sort
that looks at you and you feel that there is no-one else but you in the
whole world, cute
button nose with a splash of freckles, strong eyebrows, not bushy, but
strong, and a
perfectly wonderful pair of lips. And the most amazing, long eyelashes
you ever saw. It
makes him look like a doe, when he looks at you. And do you know the
best bit? The
cheekiest grin you ever saw, and a laugh like rippling water running
over rocks (I got that
bit out of a soft girl's' comic, but it's just right for him).

And I love everything about him. I love him. I love Ray.

There, I've said it. It's scary, but I've told you

Last year, we were still kids. We mucked about on the beach. We may
have been
both fourteen, but we played being younger. Raced, swam, snorkelled,
built
sandcastles, dug big holes with amazing ramparts around them and waited
like King
Canute to be washed into the sea, just played like puppies. We
wrestled, rolling up and
down the beach, we ate ice creams from the van that drives up and down
the beach,
took boat trips over to Caldy Island where the monastery is, got
seasick, got lost. All the
usual stuff. Like a pair of brothers, almost like twins. It was great.

And this year was going to be the same.

But it didn't work out that way.

It started that way. But

Oh heck, I've got to tell you, and I don't know where to start. OK,
the beginning, but I
don't quite know where that is. I mean, I missed Ray all through the
winter, all through
school. What? Oh it's one of those big `comprehensive' schools, about
1,500 kids, ages
11 to 18, co-ed. I missed having someone to talk to about stuff.
Sex, girls,
wanking, all that stuff. Someone who wasn't at my school.
Someone who
wouldn't judge me or make fun of me. Well I said I was a bit of
a loner, didn't I?

And I really looked forward to seeing him again, we got on so, so
well.

Anyway, we got to the hotel this year. Yes the Buckingham Hotel,
just up those
steps, and straight across the road. Do stop interrupting! And ray and
his family weren't
there yet. I checked with the owners to make sure. "They're booked to
arrive tomorrow"
they told me. So my holiday was going to be great. Ray was coming, we
could muck
about again, build sandcastles, and talk about stuiff.

So we settled in for the evening. A walk to the old familiar places,
down through the
town to the harbour, round the castle ruin to the lifeboat station, past
St Catherine's Rock
with the strange old fort on it, and back to the hotel for supper. Onto
the beach in the
morning, and back to the hotel for lunch. Ray arrived with his family
at about 2 o'clock,
and we fell on each other and couldn't stop talking.

"Let's go to the beach," Ray said. "I want to see if it's the same."
So we walked
down the steps, about a hundred of them, to the narrow strip of sand
that the outgoing
tide had exposed, and walked to the west, towards Giltar Point all those
miles away. It
was like coming home. We were both taller, both voices had broken. We'd
both filled out
a bit, and we teased each other about the new `adult' hair appearing
down the fronts of
our legs. Before either of knew it, we were wrestling, well tussling,
at the water's edge.

"I'm going to get you in!" he teased me.

"You aren't"

"Are"

"Are not"

And we both fell into the edge of the wash from the waves, and were
giggling
uncontrollably, and ducked each other under. We weren't wearing street
clothes, just
bathing stuff, so nothing mattered. Sand, sea and sun, everywhere, two
puppies, just a
little larger than last year, rolling over and over, arms and legs all
entangled.

"Race you to the dunes," he giggled as I sat on his chest.

"Loser gets the ice cream!"

"You're on!"

And we ran up the beach, to the dunes that start after the cliff
turns inland, and into
the dunes, past the spiky grass along the channels of sand and collapsed
out of breath,
panting, gasping, and still wrestling. It felt good. Just as good as
last year. Freedom, a
good friend, sun, sand and sea, and the feeling of two fit, young
bodies, struggling to
overpower each other, in pure friendship. Wonderful.

Except

Except ... except that that other feeling was there, too.

Did you ever climb ropes in the school gym? Did you get it, too?
That odd, squirmy
feeling as you climbed, as the rope brushed your crotch through your gym
shorts? That
`I can't stand it, but I don't want it to stop, what is it?' feeling
that stopped you getting to
the top of the rope?

That feeling.

But stronger.

And it took my breath away. Don't be daft, of course I knew what it
was. I didn't
when I was seven, climbing ropes, but I've known for ages. I told you
Ray and I talked
about sex and wanking and stuff. Look, can you just listen for a
bit?

It felt really good, wrestling with Ray, and having that
feeling, and starting to
get hard, safe that it was all trapped inside pretty tight speedos. It
felt good. And
that's where I thought it would end. Or rather I didn't think, coz it
didn't matter. Anyway,
we went back to the hotel, back along the firm sand, back past the ice
cream place at the
bottom of the ramps where the cliff stopped, and yes, I lost the race,
so I bought the ice
cream - two 99 Flakes, and we walked back, side by side, chatting about
the year we'd
spent at school, families, cousins, favourite food, girlfriends.

Ray said he didn't have one. He mumbled a bit. I didn't have one
either, but it was
no big deal for me. Didn't seem to be one for him either. My dad said
that girlfriends
take a bit of time, so it didn't matter. Doesn't matter.

Anyway, we got back, and went up to his room. It was either his or
mine - we
practically lived together last year. Inseparable, they called us then.
Trunks were dry by
then, so we sat on his bed, and talked away, nineteen to the dozen, all
sorts of stuff, you
know, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Toca 2, all playstation stuff,
sitting there, thighs
touching, heads together, laughing at jokes that only we understood,
talking about
teachers and their funny habits, other kids in school, and getting to
know each other
again.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you," Ray said, looking me in
the eyes. "I
kept thinking about last summer, and my fair haired, blue eyed friend,
and how much fun
it was to be with you."

And he put his hand on mine, just briefly.

It felt electric. Not the same as when we'd been wrestling,
but a bit of that
`rope climbing' feeling. I wanted that hand back, but didn't, couldn't
say so, and didn't
know why.

"I've missed you, too, you know," I said. I meant to laugh, but I
felt suddenly, well,
not sad, but emotional. Can't describe it, but the words sort of came
out oddly. And his
hand came back, but this time onto my chin, and his lips brushed mine.

"It felt strange, by good, Ray, just like when we were
wrestling in the dunes
earlier."

I had the strangest feelings. All out of breath, heart pounding,
something not quite
right, but everything perfect at the same time, and that tingling
feeling, and the feeling
that I was about to burst out of my trunks. "I've never kissed before."
Madness took
hold, Kiss me again, properly, like "

It's hard to talk with a pair of soft lips on yours, and a tongue
halfway into your
mouth, and I melted as he kissed me, and I put my hands onto his back,
and we fell
sideways onto the bed, still kissing. His eyes were open, but far away,
far away.

We came up for air, panting. I looked at Ray properly for the first
time in my life. I
mean you look at other kids, but you don't see them, do you? I
told you he was
beautiful. He took my breath away. I was propped up on an elbow, and
he was looking
up at me, smiling, and his speedos looked as full as mine felt,
but I was worried.

No, not because I was excited by being with him, or because we
had kissed
each other, or because I had enjoyed it. I was worried because I
didn't know what
to do next. I wasn't too sure I wanted to, well, you know, er .. Oh
this is difficult! Well
the only experience of sex I had was with me!

"Jerry?"

"Ray?"

"I, er would you, er, oh heck, hold me, Jerry, please hold
me," and those
brown eyes looked up at me, and I didn't care suddenly, and I stroked
his brown hair out
of his face, and stroked his perfect chest, and held him. "I'm scared,"
he whispered into
my ear, "I'm scared of losing you, and I'm scared of me, and I've missed
you so much,
and I want to learn how to please you, and I don't want to frighten
you."

"I'm scared too, Ray, but it feels good. I--I, er, I want to
learn with you, but "

"But?"

"But I don't think that I want your cock up my ass. Things are meant
to come out of
there, not go in! I need to do something with this, though," and I
pointed to my bulging
trunks.

"Can I touch you?"

I was so nervous. I'd been naked with him before, but never
excited and
naked, not with anyone. I hesitated, "if I can touch you."

When I felt his hand just brush the outside of my trunks, I thought I
would die. I
pressed forwards and pulled backwards at the same time, so sort of
stayed where I was,
and moved my hand towards Ray's bulge, too, and it felt good, so
good I tried to
take the trunks off, but they were tied at the waist, and so were mine.
We managed in
the end. I'd never thought of a cock as beautiful before. Always just
a `thing' that you
peed through and wanked. Not a thing of beauty.

But Ray's was. It stood bolt upright, curved from the base and long
and slim, and
darker than his body, with a sort of line underneath it almost like a
zip fastener, leading
to the tip of his foreskin, all strained over the head, tight, drum
tight, with a tracery of
veins just visible all over it. And there was a scent about it, musky,
special, Ray. And he
was telling me how beautiful mine was, too, how he'd been longing to see
it, to touch it,
to know what it felt like to touch it. And then he did touch it,
with his fingertips,
between both hands, and so gently, and moved them downwards towards the
base,
stretching my own foreskin open, down and over the head. And he bent to
it, and kissed
the tip of my cock with his lips. With his lips.

And it was the most gentle, strong, vicious, wonderful feeling I've
ever had. I don't
know how he knew to do it, but he did, and I touched his hair, and was
in heaven, but
there was more, and I nearly died as he opened his lips and
softly took my cock
into his mouth, and then he released it and said "Touch mine, please
touch mine", and in
a dream we sort of shuffled so that I could touch him and he could touch
me. And I
matched him, lick for lick, kiss for kiss. As he made me feel so
special, I did the same for
him, sucking, licking stroking, pulling squeezing, smelling his scent,
feeling his cockhead
in my mouth, licking the shaft of his beautiful boyhood, feeling him
tense and swell, and
hearing him gasp and cry out and feeling my mouth fill, flood with him
as he came, and
not knowing whether to spit it out, I swallowed, and tensed as he sucked
so hard it made
me cum into his mouth, filling him, making his splutter, and
choke a little. It felt
so good.

"Ray ."

"Jerry, I've missed you so much ."

"Ray I think you're beautiful."

"I love you, Jerry."

"Hold me, Ray, Just Hold me"

We spent the rest of the afternoon just holding each other, sometimes
weeping for
joy, still scared, each losing his virginity to the other, each
wondering why, how "

"Jerry, we've the whole holiday to discover each other."

And we did, and I love him, and next weekend I'm going to stay with
him at his
parents' home. But I had to tell someone.